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- Стр. 228/1273
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"
Come
along
,
our
Matvévna
!
"
he
said
to
himself
.
"
Matvévna
"
*
was
the
name
his
fancy
gave
to
the
farthest
gun
of
the
battery
,
which
was
large
and
of
an
old
pattern
.
The
French
swarming
round
their
guns
seemed
to
him
like
ants
.
In
that
world
,
the
handsome
drunkard
Number
One
of
the
second
gun
's
crew
was
"
uncle
"
;
Túshin
looked
at
him
more
often
than
at
anyone
else
and
took
delight
in
his
every
movement
.
The
sound
of
musketry
at
the
foot
of
the
hill
,
now
diminishing
,
now
increasing
,
seemed
like
someone
's
breathing
.
He
listened
intently
to
the
ebb
and
flow
of
these
sounds
.
*
Daughter
of
Matthew
.
"
Ah
!
Breathing
again
,
breathing
!
"
he
muttered
to
himself
.
He
imagined
himself
as
an
enormously
tall
,
powerful
man
who
was
throwing
cannon
balls
at
the
French
with
both
hands
.
"
Now
then
,
Matvévna
,
dear
old
lady
,
do
n't
let
me
down
!
"
he
was
saying
as
he
moved
from
the
gun
,
when
a
strange
,
unfamiliar
voice
called
above
his
head
:
"
Captain
Túshin
!
Captain
!
"
Túshin
turned
round
in
dismay
.
It
was
the
staff
officer
who
had
turned
him
out
of
the
booth
at
Grunth
.
He
was
shouting
in
a
gasping
voice
:
"
Are
you
mad
?
You
have
twice
been
ordered
to
retreat
,
and
you
...
"
"
Why
are
they
down
on
me
?
"
thought
Túshin
,
looking
in
alarm
at
his
superior
.
"
I.
.
.
do
n't
...
"
he
muttered
,
holding
up
two
fingers
to
his
cap
.
"
I.
.
.
"
